The Keeper of the Voice
by Myrtle Turtle 1
Summary: You know that voice you hear, the one that advises you? Thats the Keeper, or Florence as she prefers. With the center of confidence and a voice the open-minded can hear, can she truly live up to expectation shes' been given? JackxOC New summary, please review!
1. Chapter 1: Dance Until YouBreakSomething

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the RotG associated characters, books, plot, movies, and such. I only own my characters and ideas. **

**A/N: Hello dearies, my first Rise of the Guardians fic, hope you aren't too disappointed. More chapters will be up soon, and I hope you enjoy this one. Please leave a review, I know everyone says this but the encouragement and criticism is very significant to me and I love them dearly. Happy reading and I'll see you soon with more. :) **

**Chapter One: Dance Until You Break Something**

"Okay ladies, one, two, three, four, and up and hold it!" Madame barked in her thick Irish accent. "Clara I said _hold_ it not _squirm_! Same for you Lucy, keep those hands _up_!" her staff pounding into the floor with each syllable.

The music of a piano playing a simple tune sounded in their ears as Madame thumped the staff with each beat, each girl feeling their legs start to burn and their feet start to ache. One girl in particular, a rather short ballerina, named Tabitha could feel her knees shake as she tried to hold her position, sweat dripping down her face and from her vibrant orange bun, feeling the hot sun baking them in the windowless and mirror covered room. Her mouth flew open with a gasp and she flew forward and her knees met the floor as they gave out with a harsh thump, her body flew into the girl in front of her, causing a chain reaction, like the domino game her mother played while gossiping with the neighbors in the parlor. Each girl met the floor and some fell in heaps. The piano player cut off with a wrong note as a dancer fell into him and Madame shouted out in exasperation, throwing her staff into the wall.

"_Honestly_, you are supposed to be the best of the town, this is not what I expected!" She shouted out, her accent thickening and her face turning red and each freckle that splattered over her face blending into it. She grabbed her light brown hair and tugged at the bun, leaving the room with a resounding silence and a shout of annoyance echoing in it.

Each girl stared at one another, several glares finding Tabitha who meekly smiled. A beat later, Madame's head popped into the room.

"Come along Florence!" She snapped, each girl watching as a tall, younger, and thinner replica of Madame scurried from the floor following after her, murmuring apologies in a softer Irish accent.

* * *

Florence ran after her mother, ballet shoes wrapped around her neck like a scarf and bare feet hopping on the hot floor of a summer London. Madame Beirne walked at a brisk pace, a seething expression that sent everyone clearing a path for the traveling ballet teacher.

"Mam, wait for me." Florence ground out, hopping on each foot and toppling over. Her mother sighed loudly before walking over to her daughter and lifting her off the ground and pulling her with, returning a smile in thanks.

"_Go hionraic_, Florence deifir suas." (Honestly, Florence hurry up. –Sorry if wrong, Google only goes so far-) Her mother spoke in Irish, much to the confusion of Florence, who only had the accent due to her mother being her only companion since she was born and they took to traveling. Her mother sighed in annoyance at her daughter's confusion. "_Go_! I shall talk to Mister Banely myself."

Florence stared on as her mother shouted and walked away, always the angry Irish with a reputation for such. With a soft sigh, she turned around and headed home.

"Oi! Fancy a newspaper! Celebrate the New Year! 1880 is here!" A newsie shouted out to anyone who would listen. "What about _you_ Florence!"

"Go away Arthur," She replied lightly, with a smile at the younger boy.

"It was worth a shot," He told her, smiling with his crooked teeth. "What about you Miss, fancy a paper!"

Florence rolled her light blue eyes as she moved on, her footsteps tracing where they had walked for the last few months, the longest time they had stayed somewhere-though it seemed like it was time to move on again.

"_Florence_!" A thick English accent resounded throughout the small apartment, "I was waiting for you for _ages_! What if your mum had walked in, she would kill me with that staff of hers."

Florence laughed out and loudly, "Like you would let that happen, you have the lightest feet Tabitha."

"Well of course I do, you don't get the _lead_ in the recital if you don't." She retorted smartly, hoping off the dark table she propped herself on.

"Don't remind me," Florence told her, "It took ages to convince my mam you were the best, not Lori."

"And you don't regret it one bit," She said jokingly.

"_Oh_!"Tabitha gasped, "I almost forgot, I needed new ballet shoes and look at what my mum got" She held up a pair of Pointe shoes barely held together, "They may be better than my old pair, but I can't _dance_ in this, I can barely _stand _in them without teetering!"

Florence studied the shoes with a thoughtful gaze, "…Maybe ya could use mine, I don't have a part that important anyway, just in the back." Her loud voice and light accent echoing throughout the almost empty building.

Tabitha's face lit up and a smile graced her face as she squealed, "You're the best Ren! The best!"

"Now," Tabitha said, dragging Florence to the floor, "you said you'd tell me about your travels."

"No," Florence groaned out, "Do I have to; I've told you a ton of times!"

"But we have all the time in the world until tonight! You could just tell me why then?" She added hopefully.

"Fine," She gave in with a sigh.

"My mam was still a young lass, dancing like her mam before when she shipped her away in 1846, right when in her home Dublin was starving and poor. My Gran sent her to Boston to escape the madness with the rest of the immigrants and from there my mam met my da, a drunken immigrant himself- from Dublin too- who conceived me with her when she was only nineteen." Florence settled herself on the floor, Tabitha listening raptly. "She always said he had the nicest blue eyes and after a few drinks she was sold. Said she always hoped I would have his eyes and not her brown ones. Anyway, after I was born they married while Ireland was still in a right state, my da when back for the rest of the family and never returned, mam always said he's probably still drunk and working a potato farm with a new family. My mam waited three years for him 'till she decided to move on and travel. Said we went straight to Europe on a boat and that's it. She travels around and teaches dance. And I follow her."

Tabitha sighed, "It never gets happier each time you tell it does it? No happy ending."

"No, no it doesn't." Florence agreed with a small smile.

* * *

"Alright girls, Mister Banely said I can leave after tonight's performance. Make me proud you maistíní!" (Hooligans) Madame shouted in her booming voice that Florence had inherited.

"Mama, don't insult them, even if they don't understand." Florence giggled quietly, having heard the word enough times-though more as a term of endearment than an insult.

Her mother smiled back at her, each dancer seeing the resemblance in their faces greatly. Each one had a narrow and small face, with high cheekbones, and a rather big nose for their face, with pale skin and freckles. Despite the few wrinkles that marred Madame's face and the thinner lips on Florence, they were identical.

"But, where is the fun in that my Rinceoir," (Dancer) Madame told her, patting her cheek. "Now! Let's get _ready_ girls, on stage soon!"

"Florence!"

Florence shot her head over to look at Tabitha running towards her, the dingy shoes clasped in her hand and an ankle length pink tutu wrapped around her waist, over a pink leotard.

"I've got the shoes," She panted out, "I can't thank you enough Flore."

Florence shook her head dismissively, "Does not matter, now go shine Tabitha."

Tabitha nodded her head with a beam and ran off, Florence's shoes now in hand while Florence delicately laced the Pointe shoes, careful not to damage them more than already.

"Alight, girls on stage now!" Madame whispered, now aware of the crowd outside of the curtains. "Now Lori go, Clara, Martha, Susan, _go _Clara, Tabitha remember to smile, and you Florence-_ what _is on your- no never mind."

"You _don't _want to know mam," Florence told her, brushing past and taking position, with her arms outstretched, a bold smile, and feet in fifth position.

Each girl put up a bright smile, Tabitha right in front with shining shoes and a shining smile. She looked back at Florence, who nodded in reassurance right as Saint-Saëns began on the violin. Florence took a breath in and rose on her toes.

'_Tab was right, I can barely stand.' _She thought to herself, feeling her weight bounce on each foot and her ankles shake. She took another breath and began to follow the other girls, aware of the fabric that tore on her shoes as she did so. She could hear the music reach the conflict and felt her ankle twist before she shrieked, falling to the ground. Her left foot slid off the platform she was on, taking her down. The last six inches of her pink tutu tore off and screeched as it snagged on the edge of the dark stage. She heard the music play on and terrified screams and an accented cry for help as she felt the pain in her ankle before a sudden pain bloomed in her neck as she landed, then all was silent and gone.

* * *

Shallow breathes sounded throughout the deserted and musty performance hall. The curtains were drawn shut and the instruments abandoned. Seats were thrown about, almost as if a hasty exit had taken place. A wooden staff was toppled on the floor, bent in two. A pair of rather ugly dance shoes sat in the middle of the stage, curiously next to the body of a girl. Her skin was pale, almost as pale as the stark white torn tutu skimming her knees with a rough edge and light gray tutu on her body. What looked like the rest of her tutu was now almost a shawl, wrapped around her thin limbs. Dark, very dark brown hair fell out of a messy and knotted bun. From the skylight above the stage, moonlight streamed through and basked on the girl, making her eerie paleness glow.

"_Wake up now," _A voice seemed to whisper, but stood loudly in the silent room.

The girl stirred and her large eyes opened, revealing a silver color. Her breath was still loud and pant-like as she sat up, staring at her hands before gasping deeply as she threw them around her neck with a cry. She drew them back as if they lit her skin on fire, staring at them with a sob falling out of her lips. Where each freckle has marred her skin, was now a lighter patch of skin that revealed none of the peach and dark spots that had been there before. In the corner of her eye dark hair fell over her ear, making a cry of surprise and fear echo out, she manically held her head, eyes watering. Once light honey hair was now almost black brown hair.

"_I know that it is a lot to take in." _The voice that had wakened her softly said, making her look around in panic.

"_Do not fear, Keeper." _The voice continued, "_You shall figure out your purpose_"

"Wait! Don't leave me! What does that mean, who is the Keeper?" Florence cried out, as the moonlight dimmed. "Please! Where is my mam!?"

No one replied making her feel more alone as a sob shook her body, sending her to the floor as the shawl of tulle floated to the floor. She sniffled as she held her head, not willing to accept what had happened, murmuring denies. Her tears soon dried as she pried herself off the floor, seeing the shoes that she had worn what felt like just moments ago, though it couldn't be seeing as it had been hours away from darkness before. The shoes had once been a pink and dirt smeared tatter of a shoe, now where a stark white with gray thread weaving on where the tears had been. It didn't look exceptionally pretty, the threading smarted that, and the white almost burned her eyes and held no shine like satin. But, she couldn't help but pick them up by the knot that held the four laces together and hand it from her neck. Shakily, she stood to her feet, a shade darker than her new skin color tights on her legs, not tearing. With a sigh, she walked out of the performance hall and onto the busy streets of London. At the corner she saw Arthur selling newspapers. Curious, she ran up to him, catching the end of his shout.

"Read about it! Young dancer killed yesterday! Snapped her neck right in two! Florence Beirne, only sixteen! Freshly printed!"

Her breath caught and her feet stumbled. Florence could only stare at Arthur and her baffled expression grew as a man walked towards her. She expected him to point out the supposed dead girl walking, only to cry out as he walked through her as if she were a cloud of dust.

"Ah!" She cried out as several more walked through her, a heavy feeling settling in her heart. "Arthur! Arthur, please where friends! Explain this trickery!" But, it feel on deaf ears, though his ears absently perked up towards her, feeding her a morsel of hope.

"That's right Arthur; you know I'm not dead!" She pleaded hysterically, accent becoming thicker.

But, he didn't seem to hear her this time, choosing to shake his head and proceed to walk across the street. A car drove down the street, something Arthur didn't see. Florence screamed out as no one helped him.

"Arthur, get back on the side walk, get back now! Danger!"

Everything froze, people moved slower and heart beats thudded loudly. Arthur could hear it, something telling him to move back. Ina split second, he jumped back, the car driving by within mere seconds of a sure death. He gasped loudly, and turned his head around, meeting Florence's new gray eyes.

"Florence!?"


	2. Chapter 2: A Prayer and a Tug

**A/N: Aaaah the review and follows make my little heart sing. I feel so special when that happens. ^~^ So here is a new chapter dearies, I apologies for shortness, and promise I will make the next one longer! Hope you enjoy it and I hope you decide to review! I really want to hear about what you think of Florence and such. Onward with the story! **

**Also, need to know if you guys want a Jack/oc romance or no pairing or oc/oc. **

**KikaKatTIOI: I can't even begin to say how excited I was when I read your review! I just finished with your RotG story about Jack and omg. I know what you mean; it's literally one of my biggest pet-peeves when they do that with their oc. Thank you so much! I'll be hopefully *fingers crossed* updating this story every few days, if not every day. :) **

**Chapter 2: A Prayer and a Tug**

Pure hope and excitement filled her silver eyes as a smile widely stretched on her lips. She shakily let out a sigh and stepped forward to the raggedy eight year old in front of her, who was staring wide-eyed and turned almost s pale as she now was. Her hand reached out for him, only for him to jerk back as if she were fire. The excitement faded, but the hope never wavered as it only showed her he could still see her. He shook his head rapidly as she continued with her stride, hand still outstretched.

"Arthur," She began tentatively, "Please tell me you can see me- say something?"

"I-I can," He told her shakily and quietly, "H-how can I see you F-F-Florence? You're d-dead."

Tears and fear welled in his brown eyes, and she dropped her hand. "I don't know Arthur, I really don't."

Florence's own eyes filled with tears and the weight of his words sunk in as she pathetically replied. How could a day have gone by, more importantly how could everyone think she was dead.

He smiled slightly when he heard the Irish accent, but it dimmed. "You should be dead Florence, everyone saw how you fell off stage- god I'll never forget how your neck looked."

"Oh Arthur," She said, moving fast to wrap and arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. But, everything is okay now- we can tell my Mam and Tabitha-"

"Wait!" Arthur cut in, pushing her back, "Florence, your mum left this morning, left with some choice parting words-more like screams- and off she went. Tabitha was so grief-stricken and shouting and actin crazy so her mum is sending her to Bethlem."

"Bethlem? What's that?" She questioned, drawing back from him as she thought about her mam, '_How could she leave, doesn't she know I'm not dead.' _She voiced her thought to Arthur.

"It's an insane asylum Florence," he told her gently, her northern accent thickening. "As for your mum, she knows your dead Florence, we all know because she took your body with her in the carriage. Heading back to Ireland, by what I heard from her grieving."

"How could her mam send her there!? Tabitha's not crazy!" She cried, "And I'm not dead! I'm not dead!"

"Florence calm down, Tabitha _is _crazy; you didn't see her clawing at her feet after you were announced dead, it was like the devil entered her body." He spoke loudly and fast. "You are dead Florence, stay away from me. I don't know why you're haunting me, but stay back! I'm heading to Father Clern, he'll get rid of you and you can go to Heaven alright?"

She grew silent, trying to process everything. She couldn't bring herself to picture Tabitha clawing off her own skin around her feet-

'_Her feet! She was wearing my shoes. She blamed herself for my death.' _She thought to herself.

"Hey! Boy, who're you talking to?" A portly man in a suit shouted over to Arthur. "All them yelling, they're gonna think you're as crazy as that girl going to the Asylum today."

"No one, just trying to sell some papers!" Arthur called back, turning away from Florence. "How did you know she was going today?"

"Ah, I'm her mum's chef." He told both of them, though he didn't see Florence. "Well, I've got to go, good luck mate."

"You too," He returned, before addressing Florence, "Come along now."

He threw the newspaper stack in his hands to the ground and grasped Florence and dragged her down the sidewalk. Her tight clad feet stumbled before moving faster as she turned to ask him.

"Where are we going?" Her question caused him to look at her incredulously.

"Are you series?" He chuffed. "You're dead and haunting me, I'm getting you to the other side."

She left out a huff in annoyance, "Listen Arthur, I'm not dead. This is not what death feels like!"

"You do feel alive to me." He admitted in hesitance, "But, why would you look so different. Answer, you're an angel."

She shrieked loudly, startling him. "I'm not dead!"

"Yeah, yeah, look the church is- ah!" He yelled out as Florence abruptly yanked her hand out of his grasp and ran towards the performance hall.

"Florence! Florence get back here!" He yelled out, causing people to stare and her to continue running. "I'm just- my friend – she was just- uh newspaper."

"I'm sorry Arthur!" She called back over her shoulder.

Her tulle shawl moved down, causing her to hastily grasp it in each fist. As she ran faster she felt a breeze suddenly burst towards her. The breeze was so strong and she felt it push the fabric that looped behind her up into the air, almost like a parachute. The gust seemed to get more powerful, and only on Florence.

"Ah!" She gasped out as the long tulle lifted her up in an arc above her head as she grew higher with the breeze.

The breeze only pushed on her and carried her up above the houses and streets of London. She could see the performance hall, her little apartment, even Arthur staring up at her awestruck. She strained her ears as she saw his mouth move. The wind seemingly knowing what she wanted to do as it lowered a bit.

"I knew you would make it to Heaven! Live on Florence!" Arthur shouted up gleefully, waving goodbye to her, ignoring all the people who stared at him.

She couldn't help but laugh to him, letting him believe what he wanted. A smile continued to stay on her lips as the wind flew her through the sky, for what felt like hours. The night sky was above her head in what felt like reaching distance. Her hands were still extended as she flew with her white tulle parachute of sorts. Joyous and disbelieving laughter would escape her mouth every now and then, as she tipped her head back and looked at the stars above her head, twinkling and shining bright against their backdrop of a deep blue. She looked back down when the sun started to peak and the sky became pink and red with the early morning.

Bellow her feet was a park, still empty due to the early morning, and she decided to land. A metal swing set and next to it was a tall metal pole with several ropes attached to the top of it hanging limply and moving in the wind every now and then.

Florence looked down at it with a small serene smile, opening her mouth hesitantly. "Um, I would like to go down there?"

Her mouth flew open widely as the wind suddenly, and very roughly, pushed against her and moved her towards the ground of the playground at a fast pace.

"Aaaaaaah!" She creamed out as she ungracefully tumbled to the ground, rolling and flipping until she slowed to a stop, in a mid Somersault position.

Neck bent awkwardly pressed into the grass and legs above her head and bent. She couldn't help but laugh and roll to the side and out of the position. A few feet away her tulle was lying on the ground, still a bright white and bunched up, though it didn't crinkle like she expected.

'_Wouldn't surprise me if it was magic as well, after all this all seems magic.'_ She contemplated to herself, smiling at the fabric that seemed to glow like dew on a flower.

She didn't know exactly what was happening, her mind was still a bit fuzzy and her heart in pain, but she pushed past the feeling as she felt something inside her pull her to the park- as if she was needed. After she got off the ground and she picked up the shawl and threw it up in the air with a running start and yell of joy and practiced her flying, never straying from around the playground, just around the perimeter. She lazily floated with bent elbows and glided with the natural breeze, watching as the sky formed a bright gray as the clouds floated over and as young children and adults wandered over to the park. She felt the tugging again, much more persistent and almost as if it pulled on her whole body. She giggled slightly and moved to follow the invisible pull. It brought her towards a girl no older than her, sitting on a metal bench with and Florence could see a man, older than them, walking towards her-rose in hand. She felt the tug pulling at her body much more urgently and the words came out before she even realized.

"Get up now and walk away, go he isn't the right one. You know it too, just decline and leave." Her voice softly spoke, the words just seeming right as Florence stared at the girl- watching as she crinkled her brow before standing up.

The girl still looked unsure, and Florence held her breath waiting in anticipation, the girl approached him and he took her hand. A beat later, all she could see was the shaking of blonde hair and feet running off, much to the bewilderment of the man. Florence felt the tugging stop and looked down at her body in wonderment, feeling a smile stretch on her lips. The moment of peace didn't last as she felt the tugging once more, feeling distant, and she squeezed her palms around the fabric smiling up at the sky in determination.

"Alright breeze, let's do this."


	3. Chapter 3:A Cricket in the Snow

**A/N: It makes me so happy to see what was reviewed on this fic, like I literally thought everyone would hate it, hate my character, yada yada, run me out of town with pitchforks- you know the usual. Also, don't know if you noticed, but I've paired Jack and OC together and changed friendship to romance on my genre, nudge nudge wink wink. **

**Also, this chapter might be a bit confusing/annoying with flashbacks and time jump. Sorry if you don't like them! :/ **

* * *

**Frozen Solid: Aaah no one's ever said something so nice about my stories before! I always fangirl over fic's too, I just figured everyone did :P Thank you so much! **

**KikaKatTIOI: I know, Arthur is just so adorable; it almost makes me wish he was in the fic more. (Who knows ;) ) You're the Jennifer Lawrence of this Fandom and writing Jackson, like literally.**

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**Commence with the words! **

**Chapter 3: A Cricket in the Snow **

Her feet roughly pressed into the dry grass and sent them out from under her. She rolled downward with the slope of the hill she was tugged to, as she so lovingly called- seeing as this one had been particularly forceful. Florence felt the twigs on the grass pull at her tied up hair and the dry grass scrape at her skin. Suddenly, her body was forced to a halt as it slammed into what she saw from her disoriented gaze was a tree. A sigh escaped her lips and she stiffly stood up.

"You'd think after one hundred years I would have gotten _used_ to this." Florence grumbled to herself, rearranging at her white tutu, the fabric-as it always did- not crinkled or dirty. She stretched her arms out and rolled her neck, pulling the tied shoes away from her neck for a moment.

"I thought we talked about this, ballerinas are supposed to be graceful." A familiar voice spoke from behind her; she could practically hear his smirk.

"And _I_ thought we established only old men have white hair." She shot back, accent making it sharper than intended, not looking back as she roughly pulled her tulle parachute from a near bush and slipping it around her shoulders with a scowl.

"Yeah, yeah I didn't hear you complaining _much _when I was saving you." He told her, holding his hands when she looked at him, a glare still in her eyes. "What's got you so mad anyway?"

"Just this annoying winter spirit who won't stop bothering me, in fact he's taken it upon himself to bother me for ninety and counting years." She said in her normal tone of voice, still walking back up the small hill while he glided next to her.

'_Still fly's better than me_,' She mused, slightly envious.

"Yeah, well he doesn't need put that much effort then, I heard she annoys easily." He told her flippantly. "Ooof!"

Her elbow jutted itself into his ribs as they reached the top of the hill, making him fall from the force. She snorted as he fell into the ground, much like she did-only this time it was funny.

"Ha, ha, ha you're _so _funny Jack." She deadpanned with heavy sarcasm.

* * *

_**Flashback: **_

"And this is North's workshop." A sweet southern accent chimed.

Two figures flew above a beautiful landscape of snow covered mountains giant ice glaciers. If anyone where to wander across it, which would be impossible for a human, ones wings and the others fabric wouldn't be that strange, at least compared to the Russian inspired building that was built into one giant glacier. The sun shone lightly down on them, seeming to glow the two, one in her paleness and the other in her pink tinged skin. Light brown walls and rounded ceilings stared back at them, framed by shining snow.

"Oh Charis, this is _amazing_." Florence breathed out her eyes reflecting the golden shimmer of the workshop that just screamed magic and wonderment.

"Isn't it just doll?" Charis giggled back, smugly smiling. "I remembered my first time here; I think I was ten years old too."

Florence didn't reply, still staring at the workshop in awe, eyes wide and shining. She hesitantly began to talk.

"Can we- do you think." She stopped speaking and shook her head slightly.

Charis smiled at the younger "mythical being" before taking her hand in her own. "C'mon"

"Wait! You mean we can go in there?" Florence said being dragged by the winged woman. "Isn't that against his rules?"

"Hey, when has Cupid ever been denied access to somewhere?"

"When have I been given access?" Florence retorted.

"Honey, your center is confidence, use it some time." The woman chided her softly. Her only reply was a soft sigh as they drew closer to the building.

"Maybe I could just wait here, at least for a few minutes?" Florence meekly asked.

Charis sighed, "Fine, just stay _here_ okay? I'll be right back." She patted her cheek with a light pink hand before being let in by a yeti.

The two yeti's in front of her began to stare unwavering at her, causing an obvious red hue to fill her pale cheeks.

"I'll just," She coughed, backing away and readying her tulle. "Be over there- _ahem_ yep."

She fell into the breeze shot at her and manipulated her flight with the arc over her head. The colder air pushed on her body and made her wish she wasn't flying and could wrap the fabric over her shoulders. Still, she didn't land, keeping the sky and decided to fly around the workshop. She tried to picture the gruff yetis making the toys, like Charis and others beings had told her before. She couldn't bring herself to believe it, however, even though Charis was thousands of years old and wouldn't lie.

So tangled in her thoughts she didn't see the other figure flying around the workshop, much like herself, until they collided. A shriek tore out of her mouth, the tulle went flying to the icy ground, cold fingers wrapped around her arm, something slid around her waist, and a smirk met her eyes. It was then when she realized how they must have looked. A wooden, frost covered, and curved stick was around her waist holding her up, a boy no older than her had a hand around her upper arm, and was smirking at her with mirth filled light blue eyes. She couldn't draw her own eyes away from his pale skin, surprisingly even paler than hers, and his white hair. She also couldn't help the hand that reached up and slapped at his arm.

"Ow- what was that for?" He asked her in a deeper voice than she thought he would have.

She continued to glare at him, "You knocked into me!"

"Hey, at least I caught you." He told her, feigning letting her go before she tightened her hold on the arm she hit. "_See_, even you realize it."

"I wouldn't have this problem if you hadn't _knocked_ the fabric out of my hands." She shot back, her accent making it hard to understand her.

"Well," He began, sparing a glance at her tutu, "If you had been graceful like all the other ballerinas you could have just twirled away."

Her glare intensified as he continued, "Really, you should be thanking me right now."

"Well then, I thank you for not having hair that reflected your age, as otherwise I would have fallen." She drawled out, it wasn't the best reply, but she couldn't take the words he'd doubled with his light tone.

"It comes with being the Winter Spirit." He flippantly said flatly, while he flicked his wrist with the hand holding his staff, sending her flying into a pile of snow.

She heard laughing as she pushed her way out of the snow and saw him doubled over against his staff in the air. Brushing it out of her dark hair, she kicked one foot out and pushed the staff down, making him fall with it and rather clumsily clamber back into position.

"Wow, so I just had the pleasure of kicking the Winter Spirit, I can't _wait_ to tell my friends!" She falsely squealed.

"No, you just had the pleasure of being in my company _and_ being saved by me." He smiled smugly, leaning on the staff again. "I'm Jack, by the way, Jack Frost."

"Florence," She reluctantly told him.

"So what are you?" He asked her genially.

"Eh, I like to call myself the Keeper, sometimes just Florence works as well." She jested, standing up from the snow and fanning out her tutu."I just really tell people what they need to hear, guide them, advise them, give them confidence, and the like."

"So, you're the voice in peoples head?" He pointed out.

"Pretty much." she admitted, her puffed out chest deflating.

"Like the cricket?" He asked her, standing onto the snow now.

"From that book Pinocchio, then I guess so." She laughed slightly.

"And you fly?"

She let out a sigh in exasperation at all the questions. "Yes, did you expect me to use an _umbrella_ and float through the wind?"

"Because the fabric makes much more sense."

"Florence!" Both immortals looked back as giant white feathered wings with a small multi-pink toned body flew towards them."I leave you for five minutes and you manage to fly to the other side of the building? Do you know how hard it is to fly in this weather?" she didn't spare a glance at Jack as she picked up Florence's tulle and threw it into her hands.

Cupid's hands grabbed onto Florence's once she saw she had the tulle secured and threw her into the air for the wind to catch her. She turned around and continued to drag Florence away, giving Jack a glimpse of her arrows on her back.

"We can go in now; North's told the yeti's its fine to let you wander around a bit." Charis told her as they continued to move away.

"Wait! You're going in there?" Jack called after them.

"Sorry Jack," Florence called back unapologetically, before being pulled away faster by Charis.

"C'mon, one hundred and seventy-eight years and I still can't in, but _she_ does?"

_**End**_

* * *

_**Flashback:**_

Florence had just finished advising a woman not to go into a building, which she listened to and watched on the news later when she got home that it was broken into. There had been no casualties, but still. Her range of guidance really ranged, it saved a life, a heart, change timelines, and so on. All she did was give them the push to make a snap decision. Anyway, she was still in the area- the tug hadn't struck yet and she was taking advantage of this break. She breezed over a park, taking delight in the faces of some who saw her float above.

"So they can see you, Cricket?"

She jumped in surprise, one hand slipping off tulle and felt the familiar feeling of the staff wrap around her waist until she grabbed it again.

"They can't see you?" She asked, hearing the underlying tone in his voice. "You're literally snow; you must have tons of believers."

"You would think, I haven't been seen for, two hundred and eight years." He told her following her as she flew over to a rooftop and let the tulle fall around her shoulders. "How did you get them to see you?"

"They don't _really _see me," She began, "They're just the ones who aren't so narrow-minded with the voice in their head- it's mainly children. You make my thirty years seem like nothing." She chuffed at the end.

"But you're believed in." He said, opting to balance on his staff as she sat on the ground.

"And you're the one with the legend's books, movie, costume, song- really I could go on for ages." She told him, more to get the frown away from his face as he stared at the children in the park.

He sighed and muttered quietly, "None of that matters if they don't _believe_ you."

Florence rolled her eyes before standing up, he didn't look over at her, nor did he see the small hand that hit him on the back of the head.

"Don't be an idiot Jack."

"Do you just enjoy hitting me?" He asked her, "I thought crickets were _nice_."

"And ballerinas are apparently graceful." She laughed, remembering their last and first encounter. "Apparently I'm supposed to be _a lot_ of things I'm not."

He opened his mouth to speak back, only for her cut him off.

"Sorry Snowflake, someone needs me." She told him, feeling that pull on her body in the direction needed.

Before he could call back a goodbye, she leaped off the rooftop right as the wind gusted towards her.

"C'mon breeze, we're needed." Was all he heard as she left.

_**End**_

* * *

_**Flashback:**_

A small house sat in the middle of seemingly nowhere, trees fenced the home in and dirt covered the ground. The sun beat down merciful-less and what seemed to be the only source of water was the well in front of the mail box. The echoes of laughter from what sounded like several children came from inside, followed by the call from a stressed mother- telling them to go outside. Florence smiled and cracked her neck; it was time, as she felt the tug pull urgently. It was almost- nope now it was the right time. After having done this for seventy-three years someone would think it would have gotten less exciting, but then again they obviously hadn't seen Cupid or North, or even the other Guardians-who she had met fleetingly and by coincidence.

The tug felt like it was trying to drag her as a freckled and crazily orange curled covered boy stepped out onto the porch. Dressed in the fashion trend for 1953, overalls and a striped shirt that had a few questionable stains. She waited before he moved, watching him head towards the well.

"Now, do you think your mam would want you playing in that well?" She asked him, chiding him slightly.

The younger boy, maybe ten, stopped his walking and looked around. He didn't see her yet, or seem to want to as he continued.

"Always the stubborn ones," She sighed before dropping onto her knees in front of the boy. "I think you _shouldn't_ do what you're going to do. Think of how your mam would feel."

His gasp filled her ears and a smile took over her face.

"See, I knew you would get it soon." She reached out and patted his cheek for extra measure.

"W-what _are_ you?" he asked, showing her three gaps in his teeth.

"Ever seen Pinocchio?" She got a nod in return "Think cricket."

_**End**_

* * *

_**Present time:**_

"But really, Jack it's been a while since I've seen you." She told him, sitting down on the hill-ignoring the tug that didn't feel that urgent.

Despite the many times they had seen each other, though the others were fleeting and not that eventful, she hadn't seen his face since 1976, which was four years ago. That time was spent mainly with Charis in her palace- a place she mainly stayed at, the older spirit who took to the younger one as a sort of mother.

"Somewhere needs snow and you get-what's the word you use- tugged away," He reminded her, both taking the moment of non-urgency to stare at the mainly empty park. The attention focused upon the two children playing ball.

"Actually," She sheepishly smiled, "I've got to go, my bets placed on the girl holding the ball near the street- _oop_ and there it goes. Gotta run!"

"As usual." He said, picking his staff off and flying away.


	4. Chapter 4: Palace of Love

**A/N: Not much to say really, besides I'm literally the worst at updating this past week- meant to write and have this posted on Saturday but things go in the way.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own RotG or any related things. Basically, I own nothing but Charis, Florence, and all my oc's and thoughts-maybe a few places here and there too. **

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**KikaKatTIOI: I was hoping someone would catch that at the end! :D Her and Cupids back story will be revealed in this chapter, I really couldn't resist giving her a mythical friend. It was insanely hard to figure out the years and dates and stuff, also my Spanish notes had to be sacrificed for the process. ^_^ **

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**Helpful thingamabob: This chapter takes place after the last and then like the last chapter will include flashbacks to show stuff. After this one, more than likely, there won't be as much if any flashbacks. (Who knows I could be unintentionally lying to all of you.) **

* * *

**Chapter 4: Palace of Love **

She flew the short distance in between her and the two children. By the time she stumbled to the ground, the blue ball was rolling into the street. She could feel herself moving and then hear herself speak, much like the first time she 're-awoke' her gift took over. It took over her, all senses in its hands, and she always knew what to say and what the situation was.

"Don't go into the street," She told the girl, stepping in front of her and on the edge of the curb while she watched her contemplate, "I know you want to, but don't. It's very dangerous."

For a moment, with bated breath, Florence believed she heard her-b the little girl having stepped back from the curb. But, then she drew closer at a faster pace. Running right through Florence.

"No!" She shouted out, feeling the child run through her body with an unsettling feeling washing over her. The tug felt more like fierce dragging; a panicked pulling on her body that almost sent her to the ground with its force. Time seemed to freeze. She could dimly hear herself still yelling and calling out- but only could watch as the girl went into the street and as a car drove around the corner a short distance away. There was a ringing in her ear and her feet felt frozen. It wasn't as if she could have run and moved the girl, which was proven just seconds ago. Her silver eyes shut tightly and her teeth gritted together as the car neared. Every muscle tensed and she waited for the horrible sound of a car meeting an innocent child.

But, no sound ever came. Just the sound of running feet, a high pitched shriek, the screeching of tires harshly meeting pavement, and hearing two thuds on the ground besides Florence. She hesitantly opened her eyes, staring in shock at the little girl lying down on the ground, the body of an adult near her. A sigh of relief unknowingly slipped out of her mouth. Flashbacks painfully running behind her eyes as everything melted away.

* * *

_**Flashback:**_

1886 wasn't that exciting for Florence, who had been tugged around the world for going on six years. Sure there were a few drug scandals-she really did try to warn them not to touch the stuff- and such, but really nothing exciting for her. Sure being the voice in someone's head _did_ have its fun times, but really being alone had started to hit her hard. If she was lucky, she did get to advise big names-but that was pretty rare right now. She had just given up the search for her mam, Ireland held no sign of her and neither did the roads. It broke her heart when she came to the realization almost a year ago, but she was always tugged away so she never had time to dwell on it. Unlike right now, where she had a nice moment of-

'_Sigh, as always I'm being pulled away.' _She reluctantly flew off from her perch, a random boulder in a barren field.

Where she was needed didn't seem too far way, just a few miles away and still in such a barren and isolated state. However, this location had the only house she had seen in the area, albeit a good mile away and just a distant blur- but still distinctively a house. At least that's what she was going with, setting her sights on the young girl wandering along the dry cracked road. Dust clouds where sent flurrying in the distance, no doubt from a nearing carriage, but she paid no mind as she flew down to walk beside the girl, the tug still present but not urgent letting her know it wasn't time yet. Her tight clad feet padded quietly beside the girl on the dry floor, one on the road and the other on the dirt, with each uneven step sent the shoes looped around her neck up in the air and back down with a thud. The girl didn't look her way, obviously not seeing her, dressed in thick skirts and her blonde hair up. Every absently done look back behind her saw the carriage was getting closer. The tug came slightly more present with each time she looked back, but she paid it no mind. They, well the girl, continued walking at the same pace. No trees passing them by, dirt being kicked up by their feet, and the sun beating down on them.

As they continued their walking, for who knew how long, the carriage soon began to catch up with them. Any other time it Florence wouldn't have given them a second glance. Until she saw them. They were rugged, beat up, and carrying weapons. It was then she realized why the tug grew each time she looked back, it wasn't for the girl but for something _they _were going to do and she placed all bets it concerned the girl currently walking in the middle of nowhere. She thinned her lips, debating on whether she should fly over there and leave the girl or not. Deciding she should, she flew off with one last fleeting glance back.

Her feet meet the top of the carriage with a heavy thump, something they didn't miss. If anything, it put them on edge.

'_Not good, this is not good.' _She thought, watching it near the girl.

"Don't do this." She spoke loudly and clearing, a slight waver in her voice. "You can just go by, ignore her. You _won't _do this."

The driver of the carriage shook his head, looking around wildly as she repeated her words. They looked confused, why were they suddenly feeling a change of heart? Well, if they were they squashed it away once the girl started running.

Florence threw her hands up in the air feeling the carriage burst forward, he fabric getting caught in the wind and pulling her up. They reached the girl, the tug suddenly stopped, her eyes shut tightly, and a scream echoed out. Florence's body crashed down, knee's scrapping against the rough pavement, guilt and sorrow welding its place in her heart. The tug vanished, leaving her feel empty and hollow.

'_I failed, I couldn't protect her.'_ It weighed down on her, everything she stood for shattered away. What good was she when she couldn't save and help them? She didn't make the men better people and a young girl had to pay for that.

Florence continued to sit there on the floor, the scream the girl had made echoing in her ears.

'_I failed,'_

_**End.**_

* * *

_**Flashback: **_

The next year, Florence's seventh year of being the Keeper, she couldn't help but continuously think of that day. That day when she couldn't do what she was made to do. Even the tug seemed to know how she felt, giving her little to no breaks between tugs, helping her not to think about it. Right now was one of those few breaks. She was wondering around-well somewhere. She wasn't exactly sure, sometimes she knew the area and _most _times she had no clue. She continued walking around a plaza of people, watching them and circling around.

She only stopped when she noticed a strange woman. Sure her gray dress didn't look too weird and maybe the light red eyes where a defect. Though, her multi-toned pink skin and dark pink hair couldn't be normal and the giant _wings _were defiantly _not _normal. Florence found herself gawking at the woman.

'_Are there others like me?'_ She thought happily, '_She just _has _to be.' _

With a sequel Florence ran over to the woman, who looked over in surprise and didn't have any time to shout out as Florence collided with her.

"Ah!" Florence shouted out with a huge smile, "You're like me!"

Confusion faded away as the pink lady smiled in amusement. "Darlin' I think you mean_ you're_ like _me_. I'm Charis." She spoke with a thick southern accent.

Florence blushed before backing away from the pink lady-Charis. "Sorry, I'm Florence."

Charis looked at her with a sympathetic glance, "I'm sorry,"

Florence's face shifted to confusion and offence, "_What_?"

Charis immediately backtracked, "No, no, no I didn't mean it that way. I'm Cupid, I feel love-or in this case _un-_love. "

"I do not feel un-loved." Florence told her taken aback. "… Wait your Cupid."

Charis laughed, "Sweetie, I'm sure I know a _bit _more about love."

"Define a bit."

"Thousands of years." She informed Florence.

"…oh."

* * *

"Wow! So _this _is the Palace of Love?" Florence said in awe, lying up to see the very top of the tall light pink door in front of her.

"Well, what else would a giant pink castle be?" Charis stated with a laugh at the younger spirit.

The palace was located up in the sky, literally flying with a giant version of Cupids wings on each side. Towers lined the corners and in the center a giant one stretched up the farthest. The most shades of pink and red Florence had ever seen decorated the outside of the castle. Upon looking inside, she was surprised to notice that it was all white and gray.

To her confused gaze Charis supplied. "The outside is loud enough for the inside."

Florence adjusted her light gray leotard and white tutu before slipping on her white and gray stitched Pointe shoes, standing up on them and wrapping the tulle shawl around her shoulders as she twirled around the polished gray floors.

"This is amazing!" Florence echoed out as they reached the entry way again, after finishing touring the giant palace. They had spent hours upon hours exploring the palace.

"Well, if you aren't going to be _tugged _away," Charis giggled at the word, "Then maybe you could stay a bit. See some of my doves."

"That would be so amazing!"

_**End**_

* * *

They settled a routine from then on out. Whenever Florence had a bigger break from her tugs she went to the Palace, and up to the white room that had been dubbed hers after using it for the next, well really almost her entire life as the Keeper. Flash up to 1980 and that's where she was heading. One nice thing about the Palace having wings was that it moved to where Cupid needed it and in turn where Florence needed it.

The heavy feeling in her heart that had been for the most part of ninety-three years absent was slowly settling in its old spot. She flew up and away from the ground and up to the castle that was now there. She moved through the halls and up to her room, some doves cooing at her in question and concern.

'_It was so close, too close.' _

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**A/N: If you want to see Florence's outfit check my profile! :) **


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